ay and sizin' you up. Let me make you a proposition.
I'm on my way to Salt Lake with a bull outfit and I'm in need of another
man. I'll give you a dollar and a half a day and found, and it will be
good honest work, too."

"You are teaming west, you mean?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. Freightin' across. Mule-whackin'."

"But I never drove spans in my life; and I'm not in shape to stand
hardships," I faltered. "I'm here for my health. I have----"

"Stow all that, son," he interrupted more tolerantly than was my due.
"Forget your lungs, lights and liver and stand up a full-size man. In my
opinion you've had too much doctorin'. A month with a bull train, and a
diet of beans and sowbelly will put a linin' in your in'ards and a heart
in your chest. When you've slept under a wagon to Salt Lake and l'arned to
sling a bull whip and relish your beans burned, you can look anybody in
the eye and tell him to go to hell, if you like. This roarin' town
life--it's no life for you. It's a bobtail, wide open in the middle. I'll
be only too glad to get away on the long trail myself. So you come with
me," and he smiled winningly. "I hate to see you ruined by women and
likker. Mule-skinnin' ain't all beer and skittles, as they say; but this
job'll tide you over, anyhow, and you'll come out at the end with money in
your pocket, if you choose, and no doctor's bill to pay."

"Sir," I said gratefully, "may I think it over to-night, and let you know
in the morning? Where will I find you?"

"The train's camped near the wagon trail, back at the river. You can't
miss it. It's mainly a Mormon train, that some of us Gentiles have thrown
in with. Ask for Cap'n Hyrum Adams' train. My name's Jenks--George Jenks.
You'll find me there. I'll hold open for you till ten o'clock--yes, till
noon. I mean that you shall come. It'll be the makin' of you."

I arose and gave him my hand; shook with him.

"And I hope to come," I asserted with glow of energy. "You've set me upon
my feet, Mr. Jenks, for I was desperate. You're the first honest man I've
met in Benton."

"Tut, tut," he reproved. "There are others. Benton's not so bad as you
think it. But you were dead ripe; the buzzards scented you. Now you go
straight to your hotel, unless you'll spend the night with me. No? Then
I'll see you in the mornin'. I'll risk your gettin' through the street
alone."

"You may, sir," I affirmed. "At present I'm not worth further robbing."

"Except for your gun and clothes,"